Mirror Image

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

During his first space mission, General Orlov had not been able to speak with Masha, and when he returned he found her emotionally taut. She pointed out to him that that was the first time since they'd known each other that a day, let alone three, had gone by without them talking to one another.

He'd thought, at the time, that it was a silly woman's emotion he couldn't understand. But then when Nikita was born and she bled profusely and was unable to speak, he realized what a solace just hearing the voice of your loved one could be. If she could only have told him, "I love you," those long days of sitting by her bedside would have been easier.

He never again let a day pass without speaking to her, and was surprised to find how even the briefest talk anchored him as much it did her. Although Masha was not supposed to know what he did at the Hermitage, he had told her— though he did not tell her specifics or go into detail about personnel, other than Rossky: he had to have someone to complain to about him.

After calling Masha at 10:30 in the morning, and telling the disappointed woman that "business is so good" he wasn't sure when he'd be back, Orlov had gone to the command center. He'd wanted to be with his team to mark the passage of the first day's operational halfway point.

Rossky had come in at a few minutes past eleven, and both he and Orlov assumed what had quickly become their unofficial posts in the command center. Orlov walked slowly behind the bank of computer operators, each of whom was monitoring a section of the intelligence firmament. Rossky stood behind Corporal Ivashin monitoring the pipeline to Dogin and the other Ministers in the Kremlin. Rossky was even more intense and focused than usual he followed military and political developments. Orlov didn't think the impending arrival of the two operatives from Finland would put him on such high personal alert like this, though he decided not to ask him about it. Questions to Colonel Rossky did not seem to elicit useful answers.

At 1:30 the Operations Center intercepted a report from the Air Defense station at Nakhodka to the intelligence office of the Marshal of the Air Force that their radar had gone haywire for nearly four minutes but that everything seemed to be all right now. While Air Defense checked the electronic beacons of all the aircraft in the region against their radar blips to make sure there were no intruders, Orlov knew that it was the 76T from Berlin that had caused the disruption. It was now in Russian airspace and headed west— less than an hour from intercepting the train, if that was its intention.

He had immediately phoned Titev's afternoon counterpart in the radio room, Gregori Stenin, to contact the Marshal's office so he could speak with him. He was told the Marshal was in a conference.

"This is urgent," Orlov said.

Rossky asked Ivashin for his headphones. "Let me talk to them," he said.

While Orlov continued to listen on the telephone, Rossky was put through to Marshal Petrov. Orlov saw the glint of satisfaction in the Colonel's eyes.

"Sir," Rossky said, "I have a call for you from General Sergei Orlov at the Operations Center in St. Petersburg."

"Thank you, Colonel," Petrov said.

It was a moment before Orlov could speak. For the head of an intelligence operation, he was suddenly feeling very ignorant… and very vulnerable.

Orlov told the Marshal about the 76T, and Petrov said that he had already scrambled a pair of MiGs to escort it to a landing or shoot it down. Orlov hung up and, his eyes still locked on Rossky's, he strode over.

"Thank you," the General said.

Rossky drew his shoulders back. "You're welcome, sir."

"I know the Marshal socially, Colonel."

"You are fortunate, sir."

"Do you know him?" Orlov asked.

"No, sir," Rossky said.

"Then explain." Though Orlov's voice was soft, he was commanding, not asking.

"I don't understand, sir."

Orlov knew now, for certain, that the conversation with Petrov and now with him was a game. But he wasn't about to get into a public power struggle in the command center, one he might well lose.

"I see," Orlov said. "Go about your duties, Colonel."

"Yes, sir," Rossky said.

Orlov returned to his post, beginning to suspect that even his appointment here had been part of a larger game. As he saw Delev, Spansky, and others snatch quick glances at him, the only question he had was who was loyal to him here, who might have been in on it from the beginning, and who like Petrov— may have been brought in over the last few hours. The scope of the deception surprised him, but it didn't hurt as much as the thought that friends would desert him to preserve or advance their careers.

Orlov returned to his position behind the computer bank, though it was not the same position as when he had left it. The power base had shifted palpably to Rossky. Orlov knew he had to regain it. He'd never walked away from anything in his life. and he didn't intend to leave here defeated. But he knew he would have to undermine the Colonel quickly, and without being underhanded. He couldn't compete with Rossky on that level.

Orlov realized there was only one tack he could take just as Ivashin informed the Colonel that the local militia intelligence officer, Ronash, had called the St. Petersburg station house.

Rossky took the headphones, pressed one to his ear, and listened in silence as Sergeant Lizichev of the local militia told him what Ronash had seen.

The Colonel moved the attached microphone closer to his mouth. "Sergeant," he said, "tell Ronash to follow those two. They're the ones we want. They'll probably get on the Metro. If they do, tell him to go with them, and have plainclothesmen watching for them at the transfer point at the Technological Institute, and also at the Gostinyy Dvor and Nevsky Prospekt stops. They'll probably get off at Nevsky, and I'll meet your men there." He listened for a moment, then said, "Red-and-yellow-striped scarves— yes, I'll watch for them."

Rossky handed the earphones back to Ivashin, then walked over to Orlov. He stepped in close and spoke softly.

"You've been loyal to the Center and to Russia," Rossky said, "and have done nothing we would hold against you. For the sake of your pension and your son's career, you will continue to do so."

Orlov said in a strong voice, "Impertinence noted, Colonel. A rebuke will appear on your record. Was there anything else?"

Rossky glared at him.

"Good," said Orlov. He dipped his forehead toward the door. "Now come back prepared to follow orders— my orders— or report back to Minister Dogin in Moscow."

He knew that Rossky had to leave to catch the agents, although it would appear to the others as if he were obeying Orlov's command.

Rossky turned without saluting and hurried from the command center. Orlov knew that the Colonel wouldn't surrender the Operations Center during a coup. That's what it was, he realized now. And though he remained in the command center, his mind was on Rossky and what the Colonel's next step might be